Draco and Harry: Escorts Abandoned
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: Part Four of the Escort Series. *cringe* Sorry about the angst. This fic contains MATURE adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**Part Four**

**Draco and Harry – Escorts Abandoned**

**Chapter One**

The last person Harry expected to see on that ordinary May morning was Draco Malfoy, but that was exactly who waltzed into the kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Harry's hand began to shake so badly that hot tea sloshed over the rim and scalded his hand. He didn't even notice. He set the cup down and it rattled noisily against the saucer for a moment.

"Hello, Harry," Draco said casually.

Harry did not trust himself to speak. Six months. It had been six frantic, tortured months since Draco had walked out of Harry's life leaving nothing but a tersely worded note.

_Dear Harry, I took a quick solo job. Back soon, Draco._

Harry had waited patiently, but Malfoy had not been back soon. He had not been back at all. After a week, Harry had searched for him without success. After a month he had been out of his mind with worry, fearing the worst. Draco could not be found. Sometime during the second month, Harry had received another note. This one simply read: _Harry, stop looking for me._

So Harry had let him go. That had been four agonizing months ago; the worst winter of Harry's entire life.

Now Malfoy was back, looking like he had just stepped out for a moment; popped to Diagon Alley for some potion supplies; or gone to the Leaky Cauldron for a pint.

_Hello, Harry._

Draco walked forward with his usual feline grace and sat across from Harry, not meeting Potter's eyes as he _Accioed_ a cup and poured some tea. Harry's shock seemed to crystallize and then shatter. He got to his feet abruptly; his chair scraped the floor sharply and nearly tipped over. He wanted to scream at Malfoy, but the words were too many and too varied: rage, accusation, pain—and through it all the undeniable knowledge that just seeing him again was agonizing bliss.

Harry wanted to leap across the table and wrap his hands around the slender throat and squeeze. He wanted to hurdle it and kiss Draco with six months of denied passion. Harry tried to keep the conflict from showing on his face and felt his teeth clench to the cracking point with the strain.

Harry turned away and picked up a towel to blot the tea from his hand, hoping for outward calm, though his hands shook uncontrollably.

"What do you want?" he asked, surprising himself when he managed an even, somewhat bored, tone.

ooOoo

Draco stared at Harry's rigid back and for a moment he could barely breathe through the pain. God, what had he expected? Had he really thought Harry would joyfully embrace him after he had disappeared with barely a word for _six fucking months?_ One did not leave the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World, The Boy Who Lived, without a damned good excuse; without a bloody reasonable explanation; without massive begging of forgiveness. Draco dragged a frustrated hand through his hair with a frown.

What he _had_ expected was rage. A signature Potter temper tantrum with a lot of loud shouting and throwing of easily-deflected hexes. Draco had hoped to wrestle Harry to the ground, silence him with kisses, and force him to listen.

He had not foreseen this controlled, icily silent Harry. Draco felt a sudden spike of fear. Through everything, he had counted on Harry's feelings for Draco remaining steadfast. He had never expected Harry to stop loving him. Draco swallowed convulsively and opened his mouth to beg forgiveness—to apologize for being so bloody stupid—to grovel on his knees, if necessary; and then Harry turned and the frigid green eyes froze the words on Draco's lips. One black brow was raised in question and Malfoy remembered Harry's inquiry.

_What do you want?_

What Draco wanted was Harry, although it was possible he had not really known that until this very moment. From Harry's expression, it was no longer an option.

"I… need your help," he said lamely, forcibly suppressing the urge to plead. He couldn't blame Harry for hating him. If the positions were reversed, Draco would feel the same. Hell, he would probably throw Potter into the street.

Harry Potter, of course, was a better man than that. He sat down. A muscle twitched in his jaw and Draco watched it with a fresh wave of pain. God, how he had missed Harry.

"Help with what?" Harry asked in that same cool tone, dragging Malfoy back to the conversation.

"Something dangerous," Draco admitted with a grim smile. "So dangerous you might finally be rid of me forever."

ooOoo

Harry stared at Draco, wondering what could have possessed Malfoy to say such a thing. Harry was angry, yes, probably more enraged than he had ever been in his life, but he certainly did not want Draco gone forever. It had been bad enough with him gone for six long, agonizing months.

Malfoy's eyes were fixed firmly on the teacup in his hands. He spun it idly in its saucer with short bursts of motion from his fingertips, making a chiming rustle with each movement. Was he actually nervous?

Harry studied him carefully. Now that the shock had worn off, he could see that Draco looked haggard. He was thin to the point of unhealthy and his skin was so pale it seemed almost translucent. The platinum hair was as beautiful as ever, but it was longer and less immaculate than Draco normally wore it.

Concern immediately crossed Harry's brow and he wondered where Malfoy had been. Had he been in danger? Harry's anger returned in a flash, overriding the worry. If so, why hadn't Draco called him? Why send a stupid note telling Harry to stop looking for him? Why had he disappeared in the first place?

"Too dangerous to handle on your own?" Harry snapped. Draco seemed to flinch, but it was such an out of character response that Harry almost immediately doubted he had seen it.

"So dangerous only the Savior of the Wizarding World can handle it," Draco admitted. Harry's eyes flashed, sensing sarcasm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Mulciber."

"_Mulciber_? The former Death Eater?" Harry was dubious. "I thought you captured him right after the war."

"I did. The fucking Ministry bollixed up the transfer to Azkaban and he escaped. Of course, he wants revenge. He fancies himself the next Dark Lord."

Harry made a scoffing noise and Draco grinned wryly, making Harry's heart lurch—God, how he had missed Malfoy's snide expressions. Hell, he had missed everything about him.

"You're right. Mulciber is not the real problem, although it's wise not to underestimate him. He's completely ruthless and quite intelligent. It isn't him, but rather what he's _found_ that concerns me."

Harry sipped at his cooling tea and waited expectantly.

"It's a spell—something ancient and deadly. Voldemort searched for it, but never found it. Unfortunately, Mulciber did."

"What spell?"

Draco sighed and massaged his temples with long fingers. Once again Harry was shocked at how tired Malfoy looked.

"It's a killer. Similar to the dark magic we've been eliminating, but instead of merely warping or mutating the magical energy, this spell can turn it lethal. In essence, once it's unleashed, whenever someone casts a spell—any spell—the magic will turn on them. And kill them."

Harry stared at him in disbelief.

"It will _kill_ witches and wizards? Indiscriminately? Why would Muliciber do that?"

"Because he's stark raving mad, of course," Draco snapped and then sighed. "He thinks to eliminate everyone except those in his inner circle. All his has to do is warn them not to use magic."

"What's the point of that? If no one can use magic, we'll all be like Muggles."

"Muliciber thinks he can reverse it. He plans to let the spell run amok and execute most of the wizarding population. When he deems it effective, he'll unleash the counterspell—thereby declaring himself the _new_ Savior of the Wizarding World—and take control in the process."

"How do you know all this?" Harry demanded. Draco shut his eyes again.

"Someone was working with him. Someone who figured out what he planned and defected to warn me."

"Who?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's silver eyes fixed on Harry and his expression became one of pure torment. Harry suddenly did not want to know.

"Pansy Parkinson," Draco said.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped.

"Pansy Parkinson? Your _ex-girlfriend_?"

Draco had the grace to look guilty. Hell, he nearly looked _ill_ for a moment. Harry buried his face in his hands. Draco had left him—to be with Pansy Parkinson? Harry thought he might burst into hysterical laughter to keep from sobbing.

ooOoo

Draco stood abruptly. He couldn't look at Harry; could not take knowing how deeply Harry had been hurt—could still be hurt. And there was something about the memory of Pansy that disturbed him. Something not right.

Draco had received an owl from Pansy in early November requesting an escort home. Malfoy had nearly turned it down, knowing how Potter would react to the news, but she had also mentioned something vital she needed to tell him. Draco knew Pansy well enough to know she did not use such terminology lightly. Vital, she had said. Draco had decided to take the job—a simple day trip from London to Wiltshire. She lived close to Malfoy Manor, a journey Draco could make in his sleep.

He had left a note for Harry, intending to be back the next day. But something had happened. Something he could not quite remember… and why the fuck did he always get such a pounding headache whenever he thought of it?

"How do we stop Mulciber?" Harry growled through his hands, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

"We have to nullify the spell before he sets it off."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Harry raised his head finally and turned wounded green eyes on Draco.

"Gryffindor luck."

Harry sneered. "That's not something I can just pull from a hat, you know."

Draco smiled softly because Harry had done that very thing on occasion.

"We may have caught your Gryffindor break in advance, for once." Draco walked the length of the table and ran his fingers along the chair backs. Odd how much he had missed Grimmauld Place. It had become more of a home to him than Malfoy Manor; because of Harry.

"The spell is contained in an object. We all know Mulciber is not strong enough to cast such a spell on his own. It's contained in a small metal cask. Locked, of course."

"Couldn't you have stolen it? With _Pansy_?" Harry snapped bitterly.

"It's not sitting on a sofa table in his living room," Draco said dryly. "Why do you think I need your help?"

"Where is it?"

"Beneath some old ruins in northern Scotland."

Harry was silent for a long moment and Draco turned slightly to watch him.

"Why hasn't Mulciber released the spell already?"

"Apparently, he's waiting for a large gathering of witches and wizards to affect the largest number at once." He paused and added quietly, "He's waiting for the Quidditch Finals."

Draco watched Harry mentally tick off the weeks. They still had time, but Draco hoped he didn't suggest postponing the trip. He should have known the Gryffindor better. Harry got to his feet.

"All right. We'll leave at dusk. I'll get my things together and send owls to my friends to let them know where I'm going. It's the _polite_ thing to do, after all," Harry said.

Draco said nothing.

"You know where everything is," Harry finished flatly. "I'll see you this evening."

He went out, leaving Draco alone in the empty room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Draco watched Harry leave, feeling bereft. He sat down again and morosely finished his tea before washing the cups and putting them away. He took the stairs to "his" room and was not surprised to find everything just as he had left it. His clothes were still in the wardrobe and his second favorite comb rested on the dressing table. No wonder Harry had been frantic. Draco had never meant to be gone so long. It was all a huge mistake. And something more, something he could not quite remember.

Draco had the sudden, overwhelming impression of wrongness—of something he desperately needed to resolve. He needed Harry's help. God, he just needed Harry.

Resolutely, he marched to the door that joined his room to Harry's, intending to confess everything and beg forgiveness. To hell with pride.

He stopped short when the door revealed an empty room. Draco advanced slowly into the room, stunned. Harry had moved. The bed was barren of blankets and the desk was clear of all items. The pile of shirts Harry had stacked on a chair after Draco had torn the buttons off was gone.

Draco walked forward and trailed his fingers over the stark dressing table. They came away with a light coating of dust. How long since Harry had moved out, unable to deal with the memories? A month? Two? Draco felt a fresh surge of pain. For a moment, he considering rushing through the house and snatching open doors to find Potter, but he grimaced at the thought. Evidently he still had too much pride, after all.

He left the empty space and went down to his favorite room—the study. He lit a fire to dispel the chill, and then sat and watched the flames while he tried to remember when it all went wrong. He was asleep long before he had the slightest inkling.

ooOoo

Harry couldn't sleep. He knew he should nap if they were to fly through the night all the way to Scotland, but he could not halt his racing thoughts enough to relax. He had sent owls to Hermione and Lupin with a vague explanation of where he was going. Lupin and Tonks were visiting Nymphadora's father with their newborn daughter.

Harry sighed and tried to focus on their mission. Frankly, it didn't seem that dangerous, but then Harry had a lot of experience destroying artifacts of evil. How much worse than a Horcrux could this thing be?

_Draco was back._ That simple thought kept short-circuiting Harry's concentration. He slid his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees while he rubbed his aching temples. Where the hell had the Slytherin been for six months?

With Pansy Parkinson? Harry wondered where Pansy was now. Waiting for Draco to return, as Harry had waited? Pacing the floor of her room until the retrospection became unbearable?

Harry jerked to his feet and walked to the window. The late May morning was beautiful—a strange counterpoint to Harry's turbulent emotions. He would have expected Malfoy to return on a thunder-ridden, rainy night. Harry sighed and dropped the curtain. The view was better from here—his new room on the fourth floor—but the place still did not feel like home. At least there were no memories of Draco to haunt him.

Harry needed answers. He needed to get over his anger and hear the truth, no matter how painful it might be. He went downstairs and peered into Malfoy's old room. It was empty.

For a moment Harry felt a flash of panic—what would he do if Draco had left again? He nearly ran down the stairs to the study and stopped short at the sight of his beautiful Slytherin asleep on one corner of the sofa.

He snorted softly at his own thoughts. _His_ Slytherin.

Harry walked into the room, thankful that he was still barefoot, and sank into a chair across from Malfoy. Draco's head lolled against his bicep in a contorted position that looked decidedly uncomfortable. His long, white-blonde hair covered the lower half of his face and moved slightly with each breath. Pale lashes lay against his perfect cheeks.

Harry remembered the dozens of times those silver eyes had opened and glinted wickedly at him—the times those lips had kissed him and murmured sweet endearments.

_I love you, _he had said once. Only once, but it had been sufficient. What had happened to that feeling? What the hell had gone wrong?

Though he felt the knife in his heart twist with every rise and fall of Draco's chest, Harry sat and watched Malfoy sleep until the shadows in the room lengthened and the fire burned itself out.

When the darkness was nearly complete, Draco's eyes opened. Harry registered the change in his breathing first and waited soundlessly while the blonde Slytherin sat up and massaged his neck with a groan—the awkward position had obviously taken its toll.

Draco froze when he noticed Harry. Malfoy's slim throat worked in a swallow and then he sighed.

"We should have left by now."

"It's earlier than it seems," Harry replied, not bothering to add that Draco should remember the study was darker than the rest of the house.

Malfoy stood and worked the kinks out of his spine with a graceful stretch that Harry bitterly admired, acknowledging that his irrational lust for Draco had not diminished in the slightest. He got to his feet abruptly, realizing he should have gathered supplies instead of staring at Draco all afternoon.

"Did you sleep?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes," Harry lied and wondered why Draco had even bothered to ask. "I'll meet you on the roof in a bit."

He avoided Draco's stare and went out.

ooOoo

They flew over London and northward in the dark. Nothing passed between them except a single, timeless glance when they crossed over Norwich. Draco would have spoken then, but Harry's glare silenced him. Draco wondered if Potter regretted everything that had happened between them since Norwich. They had been so happy once. Was Harry sorry for that, also?

They halted at dawn for a short rest and a bracing cup of tea. Harry looked exhausted and Draco realized Potter had lied to him about sleeping. He wondered how long Harry had been sitting in the study, watching him, and wondered what thoughts had been spinning under Potter's thatch of black hair.

Draco studied him as Harry clutched his cup in both hands to warm them from the morning chill. Potter took a drink and winced as the liquid scalded his tongue.

Harry's hair was longer and even more unruly. It nearly covered the emerald eyes and completely obscured the tops of Harry's eyeglass frames. Potter's chiseled cheeks were a bit too pronounced—he was overly thin again. Draco felt a pang, knowing he was to blame for that, also.

Harry's lips were still perfect, though, where they touched the rim of the cup—pink and kissable…

"Don't," Harry said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that."

Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to touch his eyes and he raked a heated gaze over Harry that caused the Gryffindor to stand up with an oath. Harry gulped his tea, even though it had to burn all the way down.

"Let's go," Harry choked, tossing the dregs and jamming his cup back into his pack. He stalked to his broom and hovered impatiently while Draco put his items away in a more leisurely fashion. Malfoy felt slightly cheered to know that he could still affect Harry with a glance.

Perhaps all was not completely lost.

ooOoo

They had to fly more carefully once daylight had brightened their path. They stayed low and avoided Muggle-populated areas. They halted once more, just past midday, for a brief meal Harry had packed along.

Draco built a fire for tea and they sat across from each other with the flickering heat between them.

"I looked for you for weeks," Harry said suddenly, staring fixedly into the flames and poking at the embers with a stick. "Tonks tried to help, but it was getting close to her time." Potter's voice was heavy with recrimination. Draco had missed the birth of his own cousin's child—another tick mark on the long list of Malfoy's transgressions. "She asked her Auror friends for help…"

Draco laughed inwardly at that. Not many Aurors would volunteer to spend their off-hours searching for a lost Malfoy.

"It was as though you had disappeared. Your London flat was empty, as was the Manor. I was bloody frantic until I got your note."

Draco's head snapped up.

"I sent you a note?"

Harry glared at him. Potter reached into a pocket and handed Malfoy a tattered piece of parchment. Draco took it, noticing the fold lines, as if it had been opened and shut hundreds of times. Draco saw his own handwriting in the terse script. _Harry, stop looking for me._

Draco's jaw clenched. There was no doubt he had written it. But why could he not remember doing so? He refolded the note, though he felt like crushing it in his fist and hurling it into the fire. How the hell could he have hurt Harry so deeply? Was he fucking insane?

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Draco began, but Potter spoke over him and Malfoy did not think Harry heard him.

"Your human house-elf has been by several times."

"Who?" Draco asked.

"Maeve. Apparently her devotion to you has not wavered."

"Unlike yours, eh?" Malfoy asked dryly. He instantly regretted his words as Harry got to his feet, looking enraged.

"Perhaps you should have _Obliviated_ my memory, also!" Harry snapped. "In fact, when this is over, I think I'll let you!"

He stalked to his broom and rocketed into the air. Draco tucked the note into his pocket and kicked angrily at the fire until the embers smoldered into a flickering arc and threatened to catch the grass afire. His frustration not abated, Draco conjured water and drowned every ember. He glanced up to see Harry hovering high overhead, barely visible.

Malfoy slung on his pack, mounted his broom, and went to join his angry partner, wondering when the hell he had lost his ability to always say the right thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It was nearing dusk when they finally arrived at what Draco called the Brough of Deerness, which looked like nothing but an ancient ruin perched at the edge of a barren cliff on a remote Scottish isle. Harry dismounted and walked to the edge. Two smaller islands could be seen from his vantage. He watched the waves crash over the rocks below and raised his eyes to the turbulent sea beyond. The place felt pristine and majestic.

Harry glanced at the tumbled stone that marked the ruin. Man had tried to imprint his presence here, but left little behind except the ghost of a memory. Lush grass was overtaking even that. The salt air was crisp in Harry's lungs and he reflected that some places would always be wild and beautiful.

He looked at Draco and acknowledged that some people would always be wild and beautiful, as well. The sun was setting behind Malfoy and turned the edges of his hair to bright gold as it fluttered in the breeze. Harry studied Draco's profile with pensive pride. Malfoy looked like a conquering Norse god from his position at the edge of the cliff. One hand held his broom and one foot was propped on a stone. His mind seemed far away. Harry swallowed hard past a sudden lump in his throat, realizing he would never stop loving the Slytherin, in spite of everything.

Draco's head turned in Harry's direction and he quickly looked away to study the view again.

"We should eat before we descend," Malfoy said.

"Descend?"

Draco gestured toward the ruin. "The chamber is beneath the old chapel, there."

Harry nodded and sank, cross-legged, onto a tuft of grass while Malfoy prepared their evening meal. He admitted he was starved. Harry had been too upset to eat breakfast and he had only picked at his lunch. Draco took his time and Harry found himself dozing while he waited.

He woke to Draco shaking his shoulder and sat up quickly. It was completely dark but for a small fire that flickered wildly in the seaborne breeze. Malfoy crouched beside him with a plate in hand. Harry took it without comment and began to eat. He nearly moaned aloud with pleasure after the first bite. Damn, but he had missed Malfoy's cooking.

Draco moved to the other side of the fire and sat some distance away to eat in silence. Harry felt a twinge of remorse at shoving Malfoy away so brutally. He had been too angry to listen to more than a rudimentary explanation of Draco's disappearance. Now that the rage was dissipating, Harry was curious.

There was no hint of sunset on the horizon and Harry wondered suspiciously how long Draco had allowed him to sleep. Harry had forgotten to grab his Muggle watch and could not have told time by the stars if his life depended on it. Astronomy class had been a waste of time.

When they finished, Malfoy _Scourgified_ the dishes and packed everything away. Harry noticed Draco seemed to be in no hurry.

Finally, Malfoy made his way over to the ruined chapel, which looked very serene in the darkness. The walls were barely shoulder-high in most places and Harry wondered how they knew it had been a chapel. It was simply four low stone walls open to the sky. Draco stood in the center and idly tapped his wand against his thigh. There was something odd about the motion and after a moment Harry realized what it was.

Malfoy was nervous.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "There is something wrong about this, Harry. Maybe we should…"

"Should what?" Harry prodded. Alarm bells began to clang in his head—he had been with Draco on too many dangerous trips to ignore Malfoy's instincts now.

Draco sighed explosively and shook his head.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm being ridiculous."

"You've never been ridiculous in your life," Harry said flatly. Draco favored him with a soft smile and Harry continued, "Perhaps we should think about this a bit. Do you know for certain the object is here?"

"Yes," Draco said immediately.

"How do you know?"

A puzzled look ghosted over Draco's features. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" The statement seemed at odds with Malfoy's expression. "You were here before?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"A few days ago." Malfoy's answers were unhesitating.

"Why didn't you stop the spell yourself?"

Draco's eyes seemed to unfocus for a moment.

"I'm not strong enough," he whispered. Harry's eyes narrowed and he walked forward until he stood close to Malfoy.

"I didn't quite catch that," Harry said. He had never heard Draco utter such a ridiculous phrase in his life.

"I'm… not strong enough," Draco repeated, but a strange expression crossed the handsome features and the pale brows drew down. "Fuck, that's not right at all." Draco's hand reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder in a grip that was nearly painful. "There is something else, Harry, something I can't re—"

Draco did not finish. He couldn't because the stone they stood on fell away beneath them. Without time to even cry out, they dropped into the darkness.

ooOoo

Draco regained consciousness with the growing awareness of cold, quickly followed by pain. He remembered falling—obviously that had been a tidy trap. The word seemed to ring in his head. Bloody hell, this whole thing had been a trap. A trap for Harry Potter. And Draco had led him right into it.

He opened his eyes to darkness, but it wasn't complete. He turned his head and saw a black candelabra on a low table. It held six or seven flickering candles that lit an object beside it on the table. A small golden cask. Draco sat up with a sound of denial. The cask was open!

The spell had already been released.

A soft noise nearby drew Draco's attention and he looked over to see Harry sprawled on the floor. Draco scrambled to his side.

"Harry," he murmured and slid his hands beneath Potter's neck. Draco shut his eyes at the feel of Harry's soft hair—it had been so bloody long since he'd touched it. He raised Harry to a sitting position and cradled him in his arms like a wounded child. He pressed a kiss against Harry's temple and willed him to awaken.

"What a touching little scene," a harsh voice said and Draco stiffened. Mulciber. He reluctantly released Harry and stood up, looking around carefully for the Death Eater, but he saw no one. "It seems you left out some details concerning your _business relationship_ with Potter." Draco heard a chuckle, but he could not pinpoint the location of the voice. It seemed to ring in the room from several directions.

"No matter," Mulciber continued. "Is Potter awake?"

"Can't you tell?" Draco could see no sign of the Death Eater and decided Mulciber had set up some sort of scrying spell or device so that he could monitor the room. Another spell allowed him to speak. The room was small and round with a ceiling somewhere far above in the darkness—perhaps they had fallen from above. There were no visible exits.

"Oh no, he's _tricky tricky_ like you, Draco. That's why you two are in there together."

Draco felt unobtrusively for his wand, but it was gone, along with their packs. He wondered how long they had been unconscious.

"What do you want with us?" Draco asked. "You already released the spell."

Mulciber laughed, an irritating, slightly insane-sounding titter.

"Oh yes, I have, haven't I? And you know why, don't you, Draco? Don't you _remember_?"

Malfoy was assaulted by a sudden, blinding headache. He remembered… something. Torture. _Cruciatus Curses_ and potions. Pansy's face, terrified but cowed. And pain—

Harry moaned and Draco tried to ignore Potter as he struggled to recall anything useful. Something about Harry…

"You once called me a wretched, substandard, pathetic excuse for a wizard," Mulciber said. "Do you recall?"

Draco didn't, but it sounded like something he would say.

"It seems my memory charms are not so substandard after all, eh?" Mulciber laughed again and Draco clamped down on his growing panic. God, the bastard had been screwing with his _mind_! No wonder he had not returned to Harry. The memory of having some stupid fling with Pansy Parkinson was a lie. A _lie_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Harry heard voices, but the words made no sense. He thought he heard an unusual laugh—and Draco's voice… He opened his eyes to see Malfoy standing over him. The pale fists were clenched and he looked tense—almost frightened.

Harry reached out weakly and snagged Draco's trouser leg. Malfoy instantly stared down at him in surprise.

"Get up, Harry," Draco said brusquely. Harry complied, wondering at Malfoy's harsh tone. He sought for his wand as he stood up—to no avail.

When he managed a vertical position, he noticed the odd scene of cask and candelabra on the table. What was wrong with the candles? Harry massaged his temples, thinking the vision must be an aftereffect of his headache.

"Where the hell are we?" Harry asked. Before Draco could reply, another voice rang in the room.

"Harry Potter, awake at last. I thought you might ruin my game by sleeping through it."

Harry looked at Draco, who nodded grimly.

"Mulciber."

"What game?" Harry snapped.

Malfoy was silent.

"Draco seems reluctant to tell you. No matter. He was good enough to bring you here, as instructed. Now he only need perform one more task in order to win his prize, right Pansy?"

Harry heard a breathy female voice call Draco's name, but further commentary was cut off by Mulciber's chuckle. Harry's eyes narrowed on Malfoy.

"What task?" Harry asked, knowing he absolutely did not want to know.

"All part of the game, Potter. You see, as Draco so observantly noted, I have already released the spell. Hopefully he has explained what it does."

"Yes."

"If you will observe closely, you will see that I have placed a slowing spell around it." Mulciber chortled. "Wasn't that clever? And very difficult, as you can imagine. The spell in the chest has been released, but it is expanding slowly—oh so slowly—outward. Giving someone time… to… stop… it."

"How?" Harry demanded.

"Well now, that's where you two come in. You see, they built in a sort of failsafe device to this spell. In case someone released it by accident, I suppose. Or more likely to appease some do-gooder philanthropist during its creation. Regardless, the bloody thing can be stopped by a _single willing sacrifice_."

Harry stared at Draco in dawning cognizance.

"You knew," he said quietly. Draco nodded.

"I knew, but I did not remember," he said haltingly, which made no sense to Harry, especially when he heard them through the filter of his anger.

"You brought me here to _sacrifice myself?_"

Draco looked stricken. "No, of course not! I brought you here because I was ordered to." Malfoy grimaced, as if the words were not quite what he had intended to say.

Harry was aghast. _Ordered to?_ How could he have thought he knew Malfoy? He didn't know what to believe any longer.

"You've been working for Mulciber—and Pansy—all along?" He spat the names.

"You're not letting me finish, Harry," Draco said softly.

"I think you've bloody well said enough!" Harry shouted, horrified to learn that he could still be hurt. Malfoy scowled.

Mulciber laughed. "Excellent. It begins already. You see, I brought you both here because I hate you equally. Draco the traitor, who nearly got me sent to Azkaban but for a fortuitous escape. And Potter, who destroyed our only hope for a pureblood regime. I'm curious to see which of you will toss the other into the volcano's mouth, so to speak."

Harry looked at the cask on the table. The odd flickering of the candles was now explained—the flames moved slowly, like a flag stirred by the merest breeze, and the smoke seemed barely to be moving. A faint golden glow could be seen surrounding both cask and table. Its diameter was perhaps two meters and slowing increasing.

"If you'll note the circle on the floor, you will see that time is of the essence," Mulciber went on. "That is the boundary of the slowing spell. Once past that point, the purging spell will explode across Britain and beyond."

Harry sighed, knowing there was no help for it, and found that he barely cared. Malfoy's betrayal had given him one less thing to live for.

"I'll do it," he said and stepped forward. A firm grip on his arm halted him.

"No. You will not."

Harry turned and glared at Draco.

"Isn't that why you brought me here?"

"I would never hurt you intentionally, Harry. Never. Mulciber cast a _Memory Charm_ and modified my memories to think I had been with Pansy for six months."

Harry felt a cold fist close over his heart. He swallowed through a suddenly dry throat.

"You weren't with Pansy?"

"Well, she was here, but I think I spent most of that time being _Crucioed_." Draco laughed shortly, without humor. "Some of it is coming back to me."

"You were _tortured_ for six months?"

Mulciber's amused chuckle rang out once more.

"Draco was particularly hard to crack. I needed to find out more about you, Potter. And prepare Draco to bring you here. At times I thought I would have to destroy his mind completely. The bastard kept resisting my _Imperius Curse_."

Harry felt faint. He reached out to touch Draco's face. "Oh my God," he said brokenly as the walls he had built shattered like delicate glass. "All that time I thought… I thought you—"

Draco lifted a hand to cover Harry's and pressed the palm tighter against his cheek. His eyes were molten silver.

"I would never have left you willingly. Now that you know the truth, Harry, I know you will also understand why I have to do this."

Before Harry could register the words, Malfoy's clenched fist smashed into his jaw. The pain exploded into darkness and Harry only dimly felt Draco lower him gently to the cold floor.

Harry struggled to retain consciousness as Draco's lips softly pressed against his. He suddenly knew the gesture was meant to be goodbye. Malfoy's soft mouth slid over Harry's cheek to press against the flesh next to his ear.

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispered and then his presence was gone.

_No, no, no, no, no!_ Harry fought the encroaching blackness and pushed himself upward. Through a blurred haze, he saw Draco walk toward the circle, intent upon dying in Harry's place to stop the spell.

Mulciber's amused voice sounded again, but Harry did not hear the words—he was too intent on stopping Malfoy. Harry managed to roll to his hands and knees and ignored the gonging in his ears. He flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around Draco's legs, bringing the Slytherin down just short of his goal.

"No," Harry said adamantly as Malfoy rolled over to look at him in astonishment.

"Harry, you know I have to do this," Draco said and tried to detach Harry's arms from his legs. The fog from Draco's punch was beginning to clear.

"No. It's _my_ job."

Malfoy laughed harshly. "Why? You're taking this Savior of the Wizarding World thing far too seriously, Potter. You've done your part. Let someone else have a turn."

"I won't let you die, Draco."

"Harry, I'll be dead without you."

"No, you won't!" Harry resisted Draco's efforts to detach him and finally Malfoy slid down and took Harry's face in both hands.

"Listen to me, Harry. You're worth a thousand of me. Let me do something for _you_, for once, you stubborn Gryffindor idiot."

"That's not true!" Harry replied. "Don't say that. You saved me more than once. After Voldemort—after Ginny—you brought me back to life."

Draco's thumbs caressed his cheeks and his eyes were pools of quicksilver.

"Then _live_, Harry. I can do this only if I know that _you_ will live."

Mulciber's voice sounded again, but Harry ignored it, focusing only on Draco. Harry released Draco's legs and snatched at his shirt front, pulling himself between Malfoy's knees until his forehead touched Draco's and their breath mingled.

"No," Harry repeated desperately, knowing by the calm tone of Draco's voice that he had already made up his mind.

"Harry, I don't want to live a life without you in it. Either I'm dead inside or I'm dead in reality. I'd rather be dead in reality."

Harry tried to shake his head and he felt tears gathering behind his lashes.

"Don't you know it will be the same for me?" he said brokenly.

"You've been fine without me for six months, Harry," Draco said gently. "You'll survive."

"I was _not_ fine, Draco," Harry said and felt the tears spill over, to be caught by Draco's thumbs.

Draco sighed and kissed him. Harry leaned into it and a sob caught in his throat as he slipped his hands into Malfoy's hair—God, it had been so long such he'd touched the Slytherin. Mulciber was shouting now, but Harry was lost in the taste and feel of Draco, so much so that for a moment he considered letting the rest of the world die. Let them all rot as long as he could stay right here, in the sensual paradise that was Draco Malfoy…

Draco's tongue raked his and his lips were almost savage, as though he tried to imprint Harry on his very psyche. Harry both surrendered and demanded the same. His hands caressed every part of Malfoy they could touch. He felt Draco's hands on his neck, in his hair, sliding over his shoulders, back and waist, pulling him closer. Finally, Draco pulled back slightly and sucked at Harry's lower lip gently before releasing it.

"I wish we had time to—" Draco whispered.

"I know," said Harry, wondering how many regrets he would have to pile atop that one. Malfoy pressed him back, gently.

"You'll let me do this, then?" Draco asked.

"If I say no, you'll hit me again, won't you?"

"Yes. And this time you won't get up."

Harry tried to smile, but could not quite manage it. Draco stood and helped Harry to his feet, no easy task with Potter's arms still wrapped around his neck.

"I love you, Draco. I've loved you since the fairy forest—hell, maybe even before that."

"I know." Draco brushed a feather-light kiss on Harry's lips. "I've always known."

Draco gently, but firmly, detached Harry's arms and stepped back. He turned his eyes to the faint glowing sphere of the spell, which had grown during their argument. Malfoy took a steadying breath and stepped into the circle. The slowing spell took immediate effect and Harry watched as Draco pushed forward, approaching the glow of the deadly spell in slow motion.

Harry did not see Draco reach his destination because he threw himself forward in sudden determination. He might allow Malfoy to sacrifice himself, but he'd be damned if he'd let Draco do it alone. They crossed the glowing barrier at the same moment.

Harry felt a blinding explosion of white hot pain. He was suddenly certain that his soul was being ripped from his body in every direction at once. He thought he might have screamed. The torment seemed to last forever and he felt incredible relief when the glare turned black and blanketed him with oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Harry's senses were screaming. Every nerve ending in his body felt like it was aflame. His breath rasped in his chest and each inhalation was agony. He knew immediately that he wasn't dead, unless he was in hell enduring the pain of eternal torment. Only one thought could penetrate the nightmare: Draco.

Mustering all his strength, he raised his head and sought for Malfoy. Draco was a mere handspan away, facedown and still.

Harry ignored the pain and pushed his way closer. He reached out and felt Malfoy's neck. It was cold—so cold… Harry could not feel a pulse.

Terror drove him up onto his knees and he rolled Draco over with trembling hands—he pressed both to Malfoy's neck, begging for a sign of life. A weak tremor met his searching fingers.

Oh God, he was alive, but only just. Harry immediately cast out for all the magic at his disposal. He had gotten better at it over the past few months, using the technique to dispel the rampant pockets of dark magic left over from Voldemort's reign. Carrying on without Malfoy—something he couldn't do again. Harry was weak, though, incredibly weak. He slowly drew the magic from everything around him—excluding Draco. Thank goodness he had learned that little trick or the drain would have killed Malfoy for certain.

Harry heard the grinding sound of stone on stone behind him, but he did not pause in his task. He siphoned as much power as he could contain, feeling it flood into him like water soaking a sponge. When he fairly crackled with it, he let it pour through his hands and into Draco in a healing stream, willing Malfoy to live.

When the power was spent, Harry collapsed onto Draco, uncertain if his efforts were successful. He was too exhausted to stave off the encroaching blackness.

ooOoo

Draco felt indescribably warm and peaceful. It was as if he floated in a tropical sea on a beautiful, sunny day. He sighed languorously and felt a weight on his chest, at odd with this indolent contentment.

He slid his eyes open and spied only darkness. Draco frowned. Where the hell was he? He reached up to explore the weight on his chest and encountered a mass of familiar hair.

"Harry?" he thought, pleased, and smiled softly.

His memory flooded back with explosive force and he gasped. Draco sat up, gently shifting Potter's inert form aside until he could touch his throat. Harry's head lolled against Draco's arm. The pulse was barely detectable.

"Damn you, Potter, what have you done?" he whispered. Somehow, the Gryffindor had saved him. Harry and his goddamned… what did Hermione call it? His "saving people thing." Even when people did not _want_ to be saved, Potter couldn't fucking resist. "Sneaky bastard, I knew you should have been sorted into Slytherin." Malfoy rasped lightly, but he cast about frantically. Damn it, he did not even have his wand!

His eyes shot to a doorway that had opened in the wall. A crumpled body lay partially inside the room.

Draco set Harry down gently on the cold floor and hurried to the black-robed figure. He turned it over roughly. It was Mulciber. A wand lay on the floor where it had fallen from Mulciber's hand.

Malfoy looked at Harry and instantly deduced what had happened. Potter had pulled his special trick of tapping the magic from everything around him—including Mulciber. Harry had done it to Draco once and it was an unpleasant sensation that resulted in unconsciousness and lingering weakness when he finally woke up.

Draco snatched the wand and cast a _Full Body Bind_ on Mulciber, just in case he managed to wake up. He hurried back to Harry and dropped to his knees. Draco wasn't quite sure what to cast—Potter was barely breathing. He decided to use every healing spell in his arsenal. Luckily, he had quite a number and when he was finished, Harry's breathing seemed to have eased a bit and his face wasn't nearly as pale.

He held Harry tightly and rested his chin on Potter's head.

"Please live, Harry," he whispered. "Please."

Draco stayed where he was, listening to the slow sound of Harry's respiration and feeling the beat of his heart for what seemed forever.

Potter finally stirred slightly and Draco pulled back. He caressed Harry's face gently and the green eyes slowly opened. They focused on Malfoy.

Draco smiled.

"If you weren't nearly dead I'd wring your neck for that stunt," Malfoy said.

"Good thing I'm nearly dead," Harry croaked.

"Now that you're awake, you can take that talent of yours and heal _yourself_ this time," Draco ordered, but his voice was unsteady.

"Slave driver," Harry whispered and Draco kissed him.

"Do it," he murmured against Harry's cool lips. Harry made a soft sound of surrender and then Draco felt a crackle in the very air. He felt his hair stand on end and then something like a breeze flow past him and into Harry.

Immediately, Potter's breathing grew steadier and his skin flushed with a healthy glow, replacing the sickly pale look. Draco sighed in relief.

"Why aren't we dead?" Malfoy asked.

Harry's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Mulciber said the spell would be cancelled with the sacrifice of a single life. Perhaps because there were two of us, it took half a life from each."

"So we were only half dead."

"It felt more like three quarters."

"Seven eighths."

"Never trust an evil spell to measure properly."

Once he was certain Harry would be fine, Draco got to his feet and walked to Mulciber's still form. The urge to kick the bastard until he was a bloody rag was strong, but Draco restrained himself. Harry would disapprove.

He felt Harry's hand touch his back in a gentle caress. Draco smiled, feeling steadied, and knelt to examine Mulciber's robes. He came up with two additional wands—hawthorn and holly. His and Harry's.

Draco quickly bound Mulciber in magical ropes, even though he knew from experience that even when he awoke, Mulciber would take time to recover from Harry's magical drain. Harry levitated the unconscious Death Eater and Draco led the way out of the chamber. A single corridor led away from the room, lit by dim sconces.

"Does this look familiar?" Harry asked.

"No."

The passage continued, but an iron door in the left wall was ajar. Draco pushed it open and went in. He lit his wand brightly and was immediately assaulted by shadowed memories, partially recalled.

He stood in a cell. An iron cot sat in a corner and thick chains hung from the walls. Draco struggled through the memories, trying to force them through the block Mulciber had placed. A headache bloomed spectacularly behind his eyes and he had brief flashes: hanging in the chains while Mulciber cast Cruciatus Curses at him; lying on the cot, bleeding, while Pansy tended him; writing in drug-induced nightmares caused by the magical potions he'd been forced to drink; endless hours of darkness and mind-numbing boredom that he'd spent trying to extricate himself from his bonds…

Malfoy sank to his knees, overwhelmed. Harry was quickly beside him, holding him tightly.

"He kept you here?" Harry asked in horror. Draco unbuttoned a sleeve and forced back the cuff to look at his wrist—criss-crossed with permanent scars that Mulciber had not quite been able to heal. Why had he not noticed them before?

Harry looked at the scars and his face hardened into a mask that Draco nearly did not recognize.

"I'll kill him," Harry said hoarsely and began to rise. "I'll fucking kill him for what he did to you—for what he did to _us_!"

Draco grabbed Harry's shirt tightly and held him in place.

"No," he said quietly. "No, I won't let him turn you into a killer."

"I'm already a killer, Draco. I killed Voldemort, remember?"

"That was your destiny. This is… this is nothing."

"This is _not_ nothing! That filth stole six months of your life and nearly killed us both for his twisted revenge!"

Draco's hands moved up to grip Harry's face and his silver eyes met Harry's.

"He did not succeed. I'm still here and so are you and he hasn't changed anything between us. Not really."

Potter's rage seemed to fold in on itself.

"I should never have given up on you. I should have kept searching," he whispered.

Draco leaned forward and kissed him gently. "You would not have found me. If you had, it would merely have hastened his revenge."

Harry held him tightly for a moment and then helped Draco to his feet.

"Let's get you out of here. The sooner Mulciber is in Azkaban, the happier I will be."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

They left Draco's former prison behind and returned to the corridor. A single door stood at the end and Harry opened it with a spell. It opened onto a small room, sparsely furnished with a large bed, a table, desk, and several comfortable-looking chairs. A bound figure sat in a chair in one corner and the occupant burst into tears when she saw them.

Draco hurried forward and released her. Harry barely recognized Pansy Parkinson. Her black hair, worn short at Hogwarts, was waist-length now and hung dully from her head. She had always had something of an angular, hard face, but now she looked almost skeletal. Her cheeks were sunken and her dark eyes looked huge in their deep sockets.

She was wretchedly thin. Malfoy loosed her bonds and she clung to him, sobbing brokenly.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated over and over. Draco held her until she quieted. Harry had spent so long hating her that he was almost surprised at his lack of emotion as she cried in Draco's arms. Perhaps it was her pathetic state or the memory of Draco's voice murmuring in his ear, (_I love you, Harry_) but he no longer had any doubt of Malfoy's affection.

Harry examined the room. On the large table sat a huge crystal ball that afforded a view of the room with the empty cask—that was how Mulciber had been watching them. A chest sat at the end of the bed, disclosing a large number of potions, amulets, scrolls, and assorted other items amid the clothing and books.

Potter absently levitated Mulciber into the room and a quick sound drew his attention. The former Death Eater was beginning to stir.

Pansy finally calmed and stepped back from Draco. Malfoy met Harry's gaze apologetically and Potter smiled sadly. Pansy quickly walked to a small desk in one corner and snatched open a drawer so vehemently the contents rattled and several small object flew out.

She snatched up a wand—hers, no doubt—and leveled it at Muliciber without hesitation.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" she screamed. "_Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!_" Several green bolts shot out and hammered into Mulciber's body before Harry could cast a disarming charm.

Pansy's wand flew out of her hand and she collapsed weakly on the floor. "Die, you bastard," she whispered. A spell shot from Draco's wand and caught Pansy, who sprawled limply. Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Just a sleep spell. I suppose I should have foreseen that. Whatever he did to me… Well, he had to have done worse to her."

Harry looked at Mulciber's corpse in distaste and quickly moved it down the hall to Draco's former cell. When he returned, Pansy lay on the bed and Draco sat next to her.

"I gave her a potion. She should rest quietly until we can get her to St. Mungo's tomorrow. God knows what the freak forced her to do, beside lure me here. He tried to use her against me several times… although I can't recall clearly. She fought him. To no avail."

Draco grimaced.

"How do we get out of here?" Harry asked suddenly. "I need some fresh air."

Draco took him back to the room where they had nearly died and they both looked at the empty cask. It occurred to Harry that they had to have stopped the killing spell, or Draco's first spell would have destroyed him—not the test Harry would have chosen.

A quick flying spell took them up to the darkness of the ceiling where a trap door let them out into the ruined chapel once more. Harry had never been so glad to see the night sky. His eyes immediately sought for the constellation Draco, as they did each time he looked at the stars. He found it with a familiar sense of reassurance and then looked at the embodiment of the name, who stood beside him. Malfoy smiled gently.

"I still look for Leo," Draco admitted and Harry stepped easily into his arms. The kiss they shared was as sweet as their first. Harry felt like he had come home after a long, arduous journey.

Draco broke the kiss and took his hand to lead him out onto the thick grass. The night was beautiful. Their packs sat where they had left them and Malfoy _Accioed_ his cloak. He spread it over the grass. Then he turned to Harry and put his fingers on the buttons of Potter's shirt. Draco began to unfasten each of them in turn.

Harry grinned. "Did you forget how to tear them off?" Malfoy had destroyed hundreds of Harry's shirts. It had taken Potter months to locate all the buttons.

"Not this time. I plan to savor every moment," Draco said seriously. Harry swallowed hard. When his shirt was open, Draco's hand touched his flesh, sliding gently over torso and ribs, collarbone and abdomen. Harry reached out to unbutton Malfoy's shirt in the same fashion, feeling the breath catch in his throat at the long-denied touch of Draco's hands.

His own fingers and palms moved over Malfoy's skin, recalling the silken feel of it, remembering the sensitive places Draco loved so well. His fingertips teased the Sectumsempra scars, begging forgiveness for the hundredth time and Malfoy's lips were on his again—sweet, so sweet.

Harry's tongue twisted with Draco's tasting him eagerly, caressing and teasing, feeling his senses reawakening with every stroke that Malfoy returned. The kisses grew hard and bruising as the depth of their need quickened their movements. Harry's hands removed Malfoy's shirt with a sharp wrench. Harry's was already gone.

Draco dragged him down onto the makeshift bed, pulling Harry atop him. His hands were hot on Potter's back. Draco was hard beneath him and suddenly there were still too many clothes between them.

Harry detached his lips and slid down to remove Malfoy's boots and then made short work of his own. Next Potter tore off his jeans and briefs before slowly unfastening Draco's belt. Malfoy lay still, watching him. His pale body and platinum hair gleamed in the moonlight like a priceless work of art. Harry thought he'd never seen anything quite so beautiful.

Harry carefully slipped off the last of Draco's clothing and paused for one final appreciative gaze before dropping to his hands and knees to crawl between Malfoy's legs. Harry lowered himself until his chest pressed against Draco's erection. He slid upward, trailing his body over Malfoy's hot shaft in a languid movement, relishing the velvet feel of it against his skin. Draco groaned and tucked his hands into Potter's hair.

Malfoy pulled him up for a hungry kiss and Harry's hands moved to caress the Slytherin's gorgeous body. He caught Draco's tongue with his teeth and then sucked on it for a moment. He felt Draco's cock twitch against his own in surprised reaction.

Harry's mouth left Malfoy's and moved down to press against his slim neck. Draco's hands were still tangled in his hair and Harry felt the strong fingers brush the curls at the back of his neck.

"I love your hair," Draco said thickly. "I love your lips. I love your body. God, I love you, Harry."

Harry felt six months of pain, loneliness and fear melt away at Malfoy's words, replaced with a radiant warmth and blissful contentment. He buried his face in Draco's neck and drank in the clean scent of his hair.

"I love you," he breathed. "I missed you so much." His tongue flicked out and touched the warm skin. "You taste good enough to eat, Draco. I think I will."

He began to lick a path down Draco's chest until he reached the Slytherin's beautiful cock. His tongue flicked out and teased the head several times until Draco hissed at him.

"Bloody tease!" Malfoy's fingers had moved to Harry's temples and froze there, feather-light. Harry chuckled and quickly took in the length of Draco's shaft, nearly swallowing it before sliding his way back to the top to lick his way around the head again.

Harry continued the pattern until Draco's hot gasps of pleasure made him reach for his own hard erection, but Malfoy's hands tightened in his hair and dragged him upward. Harry winced, but kissed Draco hard on the lips before Malfoy murmured, "Fuck me, Harry.  
Potter smiled, but he had something else planned for the sexy Slytherin. He conjured a handful of lubricant—a spell stolen from Draco—and reached back to slide it over Malfoy's slick cock. He grinned at Draco's raised brow and then levered himself up and slowly worked himself onto the head of the shaft. He clenched his teeth and fought through the familiar sensation of hot and cold at once—God, it had been so long! And then he pushed himself upright and impaled himself completely with a sharp cry that mingled with Draco's gasp.

Harry froze for a moment, panting, and felt Draco's hands gripping his thighs. Harry took a deep breath and began to move, lifting himself and dropping back, burying Draco deeper and deeper with every stroke as he watched Malfoy's gleaming body beneath him.

ooOoo

Draco could not take his eyes off of Harry. Bloody hell, but he was beautiful, especially with his muscles flexing as he rode Draco in a sensual rhythm. Malfoy decided he liked Potter's hair the way it was now, just long enough to curl around the edges of his shoulders and mostly cover the smoldering green eyes. Harry's lips were parted to reveal his perfect white teeth and his tongue flicked out to touch a bead of sweat on his upper lip.

The sight nearly caused Draco's heart to explode, as well as his body, but he wasn't quite ready for it to end. He put his hands on Harry's hips to still his motion and pulled Potter down for a kiss. He loved Harry's utter lack of resistance to his kisses.

Draco rolled sideways and trapped Potter beneath him without breaking the kiss. How many times had he dreamed about Harry while trapped in that hell below? He rubbed his hands over Potter's skin and began to move, rocking in and out of Harry's tight opening and making sure to hit that one particular spot that made Potter writhe… _just like that_. Harry made a guttural mewling sound and his short nails dragged over Draco's back.

"_Harry,_" Malfoy moaned, making the name into a declaration of ecstasy. He closed a hand over Potter's cock, hard and eager between them.

"Oh, God, Draco, you feel so… _fuck,_" Harry managed. Draco lost all control and his movements became frenzied and primal. His hand stroked the hard shaft in the same pattern as his thrusts. Malfoy devoured Harry's mouth and drowned Potter's gasping moans in near-brutal kisses. Harry's hips rose to meet his thrusts and the Gryffindor's hands twisted in Draco's hair as he met each kiss with eager passion. Malfoy was afraid he might be hurting Harry, but Potter did not seem to care.

Harry screamed into Draco's mouth as he arched violently and hot fluid spilled between them. The feel of Harry's spasms triggered Malfoy's release and his hands tightened on Potter's body as a thousand shards of euphoria exploded through him. He pounded into Harry until the last tremor ceased and then he collapsed on Potter's chest. His own torso heaved with exertion.

Potter's arms wrapped around him tightly and Harry's breath panted into Draco's ear. Malfoy's hands dragged over Harry's sweat-slicked form.

"I think I'll stay right here forever," Draco murmured.

"You might get hungry," Harry said.

"I'll just eat you."

Harry chuckled and gave him a squeeze. "Wet, then. It's bound to rain sometime."

"I don't care."

"And the Muggle tourists. They would be quite shocked."

"They would be jealous."

"What about sunburn? Think of your flawless skin."

Draco groaned. "Damn you and your Gryffindor logic."

"It was a nice thought, though," Harry admitted.

ooOoo

They rose before dawn and packed everything of import before returning to the underground warren to collect Pansy. Harry wasn't certain what to do with Mulciber's body. He certainly did not want to drag it back to London.

"Leave it," Draco said pragmatically. "We'll send the Ministry of Magic here to retrieve it." He watched as Draco sorted through Mulciber's chest and pilfered everything he thought might be useful. The Ministry could have the rest. Draco made certain Pansy was sedated before they took her above. She would ride with Malfoy and they would drop her off at St. Mungo's. Harry wondered if they could help her forget the ordeal.

Draco packed the last of his gear and prepared to mount his broom. Harry slung on his cape and heard something rustle as he fastened it around his throat. He reached into a pocket and pulled out the note Draco had sent him so long ago. Harry opened it, intending to skim it once more and then be rid of it forever.

He froze when saw the words. Malfoy's flowing script had been modified. The words now read, _Harry, stop looking for me; I'll always be right here with you._

Harry raised his eye to find Draco's silver eyes shining at him above a sardonic grin. He smiled and refolded the note before tucking it back into his pocket. Potter mounted his broom and followed Draco into the dawn of a new day.

Author's Note: Whew, glad that's over! I know this is short, but I can only handle so much angst. I'll probably write Part Five and get back to the usual fluffy fluff, thank goodness! If anyone has ideas for Part Five, let me know!


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